II

CAMP ON THE BANK OF THE BASUTO RIVER
TWO DAYS LATER

“Long ago, a mighty Princess ruled these lands. She watched over the zebras, and the horses, and the ponies, and all the hoofed animals. She loved them. And kept them all safe. Through the power of her own countenance she brought magic to the land. And it was good. And they loved her. She was beautiful. A zebra in form, but nearly as tall as a giraffe she was. When she sang, the very world turned its ear to listen to her voice. As she sang in the morning, the sun rose. As she sung at night, the sun would set to allow her sister the moon to listen. There was a great and mighty mark of the sun upon her flank.

“For three thousand years she ruled with peace and justice and harmony. But it is a large world. And there are other Princesses in other lands. They have their own children to protect. And thus their own motives, their own concerns, their own machinations. There was war between the Princesses. The entire world shook beneath their hooves as they quarreled.

“The Princess of these lands kept our people safe. For nearly a thousand years she kept the war away from our borders. She had powerful magic, and was aided by a powerful jewel, the Element of Providence, by which our people knew her claim to the throne.

“The other Princesses grew jealous of ours. They had war, and suffering. Our lands were peaceful, and bright, and rich with jewels. They plotted against our Princess. They could not challenge her might directly, so they sent poisoners, and assassins, and murderers. Many failed, their corpses were sent back to their native lands as proof that we would not be undone. But the other Princess were persistent, and it only took one assassin to succeed. On a dark night, many years ago, our Princess fell. The Element of Providence was lost.

“It is said that the very moon itself wept that night.

“Our people were broken, but we did not despair. A great meeting of all the most powerful sorcerers and sorceresses convened to crown an heir, a new Princess. It is known that the Princess left foals over the many years of her reign. They were never considered as heirs, for our people had believed the Princess was immortal. When she was lost, our people began a search. The seers fortold that she would carry the mark of the sun upon her flank.

“The other Princesses heard of the search. They became frightened, for a new Princess crowned would be more powerful than the last, and would think only of revenge. So again they set to work. They organized a civil war; our zebras turned on one another. Cape Mountains killed Selous’s. The Burchell’s slaughtered the Hartman’s Mountains. Always it was the more magically powerful zebras that were the most heavily targeted, for the foreign Princesses knew it was among them that the heirs would be found. They offered bounties on the legs of zebras. Legs were stacked like wood by the docks.

“The quaggas fought the hardest, for they were the most powerful. For over a hundred years they led a guerilla war from the jungle. Yet they too finally fell, this time to betrayal within their own ranks. The enemy was led to their camp, and slaughtered them in their sleep. Not a single quagga lives today.

“The foreign Princesses felt themselves victorious. They lost interest over the years. A series of puppet dictators rose to power as their interest waned. Eventually, foriegn power left completely, but still the dictators came and went. Each feared for his own power. Each still knew about the prophecy of the missing heir. Each continued the purge against sorcery, in an attempt to prevent it. Each failed to foresee his own deposement by the next dictator; their hunt for sorceresses was so great.

“We sorceresses were scattered. We hid. We secreted ourselves away, being careful in our selection of apprentices. Yet we endured. We could each foresee that the heir would still come. A golden age would come again.”

The old mare, Zuwena, opened her eys and peered into Zecora’s.

“You, my pretty little mare,” she said, “that is the story, you are the heir.”

The two zebra mares and the pony stallion were crowded into a cramped leather tent. An old dusty lantern provided light and greasy smoke. It only accentuated the various noxious smells of the place.

“But I don’t want to be heir, I don’t want the throne,” Zecora said, “I’m no leader of zebras, nor ponies, nor roans.”

“You wear the mark,” Zuwena said, “the truth is quite stark.”

“Wait a minute,” Golden interrupted, “I’m not following. There must be a million zebras in Africa with sun-themed cutie marks. Why is Zecora’s so special.”

Zecora sighed and rolled her eyes at the foalish question. She had no patientce for idiot Equestrian ponies like Golden Delicious; and she didn’t know why Zuwena hadn’t just let her drop him off at the side of the road as they made their escape from Mareputo.
Zuwena was more patient with the pony.

“There are many zebras marked with the sign of the sun, but I know quite well that she is the one,” Zuwena answered. “I’ve seen it specifically in my prophecy, I do more than read leaves of tea trees.” She pointed a hoof at temple and laughed.
Zecora knew Zuwena was a very powerful sorceress. When she had them, her prophecies were as good as gold, no matter how troubling. If Golden Delicious couldn’t see that then he was blind as well as a fool.

“I’m not doubting your magic, Madam Zuwena,” Golden said, “but I don’t see how you could be so...”

“I only wanted...” Zecora rudely interrupted him, “I only wanted to be your apprentice. I don’t want a life so portentous.”

“I don’t want you,” Zuwena said.

This time Golden noticed the dropped rhyme. It was impossible not to notice, now that he was used to it. Golden was vaguely aware that rhyming was a kind of mental exercise to them. Their magic didn’t involve horns like the unicorns at home, but the use of rhymes when casting their spells. What language they actually used while casting, Golden couldn’t imagine. They practice rhyming in their speech the same way an athlete might exercise every day. When they dropped it, it was for a reason of no small significance. He hadn’t even began to figure out the nuances of the behavior. He looked to Zecora and for the first time he had known her, she looked like she was about to crack. Her eyes were watering.

“You’re too old,” Zuwena continued. “You’re no good at magic. Your life has been far too troubled. In some ways, you are downright degenerate. You should never become a sorceress; you would only cause harm. If your master hadn’t been so incompetent, he would have dismissed you years ago. Of course, if he had been competent, he never would have attracted the attention of the death squads. I can only hope that once you find the Element of Providence and become the next princess, there will be more of it in you than you in it. The thought of you unchanged with so much power terrifies me. You would be worse than the Tyrant. Your ancestor’s soul must have been caught in the gem, you are just the flesh.”

Tears were rolling down Zecora’s cheeks now.

“I will find some other apprentice. Someone younger. A foal with more white in her than black.”

Zecora broke down at this and fled from the tent. Golden could hear her hooves galloping down the river’s bank, and then in the distance- braying.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he scolded old Zuwena. He started to get up to follow Zecora.

“There is a reason...” the old mare said. Golden paused. “There is a reason, although I do not make it clear, there are many things yet that she will need to hear. Smile, sob, sneer, grin, laugh, weep or frown, not of this will matter once she takes the crown.”

“You really mean for her to become the next princess,” Golden stated.

“Yes,” Zuwena answered. “She must.”

“And how do you expect her to do that? She’s just another zebra. She’s not like Princess Celestia, twice as tall as a mortal pony with a horn and pair of wings. You were saying yourself, she barely knows a thing about magic. How is she supposed to take the throne?”

“The Element of Providence,” Zuwena said.

“Right, right. The magical jewel,” Golden said. “We just need to find it, have her put it on or whatever, and boom, she’s a Princess.”

Zuwena looked up at him, and simply nodded.

Golden shook his head in frustration.

“Both are needed,” Zuwena said. “The heir and the Element. They are both halves of the same whole. For over two hundred years they have been separated from each other. Looking for each other. They are a duality, the heir and the Element. Many things are vague in the magical art of prophecy, but not this. We have all known it, all this time. When the last quaggas fell? They were murdered where they sat. They died singing of this, Golden. The heir and the Element of Providence must be reunited.”

Golden looked down at his hooves. He did not know what to say. “I should go look after Zecora,” he mumbled.

“Yes, you should,” Zuwena softly smiled. “You should be at her side.”

Zuwena had a rhyme for that last word, but she didn’t speak it out loud. It was one thing to have the power of prophecy, it was another thing to spoil them before they happened. Golden Delicious opened the flap of the tent and step out into the night air.

Zuwena’s smile grew wider.

Golden found Zecora near the bank, well upstream of the camp. She was sitting on her rump and absent-mindedly kicking a hole in the dust with her right front hoof. That was an old zebra instict, their primitive ancestors would dig holes to look for water. Golden knew enough about zebra psychology to know that it was a kind of nervous tic, or in this case a sign of depression. Zecora was strong-willed, wild, sometimes even frightening. Seeing her like this, Golden thought he had never seen a sadder looking equine.

“Zecora?” he said.

She looked up at him. “Go away, Golden,” she said. “You wouldn’t understand. Leave me alone in this bank of sand.”

“You mean I wouldn’t understand what it’s like to be a royal heir and destined to become a Princess? You’re right, I don’t know anything about it, and I’m sorry you’re going through it. But I know what loss is like. What it’s like to have your life turned upside down.”

Zecora snorted and tossed her head. “You’re an Equestrian pony, preened and pampered, free to live a life unhampered, by war and rape and fear of death. You’ll never understand. I waste my breath.”

“I don’t think you fully realize the situation you’ve gotten me in. You’re ruined my life, Zecora,” Golden said.

She glared at him.

“I’m complicit in murder. I have a third world dictator out to kill me. He’s got every one of his cronies looking for you and me, probably me in particular, knowing him. I’m the most wanted pony in this shithole country, no offense, and I have no idea if I’m going to make it out alive. The airports will be watched. There’s no way I could make it to the Equestrian embassy. I’ll probably have to find away to smuggle my way across the border, and I barely speak a word of the local languages.”

Zecora mumbled to herself.

“What was that?” he asked, anger in his voice now.

“I said the Resistance will see you through, you need not worry, you’ll get you due.”

Golden shook his head. “You still don’t understand. Getting home alive is the least of my problems. I’m complicit with murder.”

“You’re not the one who held the gun.”

“But I helped you get away, can’t you understand that? I’m here now, sympathizing with your cause. I’m a veterinarian, Zecora. It’s been my dream my whole life. I came to this country because I wanted to help. I’ve spent my whole life studying to become a vet. Do you know what the Hippocratic Oath is? I’ve sworn that I would never hurt another equine; I would never do harm. It’s the central, moral core of my being. And now there are, what, eight dead zebras from the other night? And there will likely be more before this mess is through? And what am I doing about it? Nothing. I’m ashamed of myself, Zecora. I shouldn’t even be here.”

Zecora hung her head for a long time. Golden worried that had been too much.

“I am sorry, Golden,” she said.

He sat down next to her. They both sat and watched the ancient muddy river roll past them in the night. The stars wheeled above them.

“I did not know this; you are right. This is what Zuwena means, when she says I’m more black than white.”

Golden laid his foreleg around her shoulders and pulled her close. She began to bray again.

RESISTANCE HEAD QUARTERS
07:00

Golden had known that Zuwena was connected to a resistance movement larger than a few elderly sorceresses. He hadn’t known the extent of it. Mbiguni’s tyranny had been long and cruel, especially by local standards. He found himself in a large but crowded tent, electricity being powered by generators. They had a slide projector, forty years out of date. Golden would have laughed at that a few days ago. Now he knew these were just ponies trying to get by with whatever they had, at whatever the cost.

The leader here was, literally, an old warhorse. His whole body was scared; one of his ears was missing. He towered over the other equines in the tent. They simply called him Major. Golden didn’t know if that was his rank or name, but it fit.

Golden was in the front row, in a semi-circle surrounding Major. Zecora was also in the front row. Zuwena was here, but well in the back. She hadn’t spoken to either of them since last night. Golden could feel a certain electricity in the air. He was no soldier, but if this was what it was like, he thought he could begin to understand it.

Major started speaking about what Golden already knew. The heir had been found. A new Princess was at hand. Centuries of hardship and war were almost over. It was time for the endgame. The slide showed an old woodcut of the old Princess. She was sitting on a wicker throne. Two ornate hide shields hung on the wall to either side of her. Below her laid the skin of an enormous manticore. Golden had seen the picture before, in a history book, as a foal back in Equestria. He remembered thinking it was humorous at the time. She had looked so foreign, so backwards. Now he could see the majesty in her.

Major described the essential goal of mission. They had to reunite Zecora with the Element of Providence.

“Excuse me, sir,” came a voice from behind Golden, “do we know where this jewel is?”

“We do not, soldier,” Major answered. “We do not even have a description of it. There were no drawings or paintings of it that we know of. Only the quaggas learned of it after the Princess was lost. She kept it secret. However, we have had sorceresses trying to find it through their magic,” Major nodded in the direction of Zuwena. She returned the nod. “We believe it is still hiding in plain sight.”

Major pushed a button on the slide projector’s controller, and it showed a picture of a large old building, in a neo-classical style. “We believe it is still among the crown jewels, now in collection at the National Museum, in Mareputo.” A murmur moved through the assembled crowd. “Our mission is to infilitrated the museum, and bring the heir to the Element. We simply do not know which jewel it is.”

He began to scan through pictures of jewelry. They looked like old museum postcards from a time when Whoazambique had tried to establish a tourist industry. There was a bejeweled sceptre, many gold chains and necklaces, onyx bracelets, an emerald tiara, coral mane-pins, polished engraved armor...

“Wait,” interrupted Zecora. It was the first time she had spoken since last night. “Go back through, there was something there I thought I knew.”

Major reversed the projector, scanning backwards through the jewels.

“Stop,” Zecora said. It was the emerald tiara. It was in a lying within a glass case, on top of an unpolished marble sphere, resting on a royal purple cushion.

“That is it,” Zecora said. Golden could see Zuwena’s ears perk up from the back of the tent.

“The tiara? Are you sure?” Major asked.

“No, the orb, I am sure. The bauble’s but a fool’s lure.”

Golden looked at the sphere again. It was just a big round rock. There was nothing special about it. No decoration except a thin relief carving. Golden could just barely make it out, it was... it was a spiral, surrounded by small triangles. It was an abstracted sun. It was Zecora’s cutie mark. This had to be it.

The others began to see it too. Another murmur rose.

“Excuse me, Major,” said another voice from the crowd, “Do we know if the government knows of the Element? Do they know it’s at the museum.”

“At this point, no,” the Major answered. “We have no reason to suspect the government knows any of this. We only expect the typical museum guards to be in our way. And they are nothing.
“But we are not taking any chances,” he added. “The government has surprised us before. As we know, they have captured sorceresses and tortured them for prophecies. We are going to assume that the museum, despite our expectations... that the museum is either under heavy guard, or they are preparing an ambush. The heir’s escape three nights ago has stirred up a hornet’s nest. Government troops are everywhere.”

The murmuring of the crowd had stopped. There was only silence. “We have two options,” Major continued. “The first, a full frontal assault. It is only one building, and we have the resources to take many of its size. Once the building is secure, we bring in the heir. Once reunited together we will fear no counterattack. With a new Princess, we will have the upper hand.”

“The second? We sneak in. We make no sudden movements. We get the heir to the jewel, and we have the same result, without any combat.”

“I recommend the former. It is the only sure way. There will be much fighting. We can secure the building, that I am sure of, but I do not know at what cost. The second is riskier, with danger to the heir herself. However, if successful, no one needs to get hurt. Again, I recommend the former, but it up to the heir to decide.”

Major, Zuwena, and the entire crowd turned to look at Zecora. Zecora herself looked at Golden with those big blue-green eyes. She peered into his soul.

“We will go with the second option,” she said to the Resistance. “Above all, I want to do no harm.”

EQUESTRIAN EMABSSY
MAREPUTO
16:15

They dropped Golden off at the embassy. The whole resistance had brought themselves into Mareputo in trucks and vans, each taking a different route. The embassy had been scouted and found secure. Whatever feelings Major had about the frontal assault plan, the partisans were experts in subterfuge. They had to be. They had also worried Golden may betray them to his own authorities, but Zecora had ordered them to drop him off if that’s what he wanted. All Golden had to do was walk down a block and enter the gate. This was good bye.

Golden got out of the van. Zecora followed to talk to him, despite the protests of her peers. They left Zecora and Golden alone, if only to not attract attention.

“I guess this is goodbye,” Golden said. “Well, best of luck.”
She had no words to say.

“Listen, once you become a princess, how about you issue me a pardon, huh? I’d like to come back. You’ll need a royal physicisn, right?”

She smiled, but again said nothing.

“Alright, I’ve gotta go. Good luck,” he said again. He kissed her on either cheek. That was the traditional Mozambique greeting and farewell. They kissed here instead of shaking hooves. It was common place, every day etiquette.
Still Zecora blushed when Golden did it. He thought that maybe that was an important thing, bu he wasn’t sure why. He turned then, before she could say anything. He walked as fast as he could without drawing attention to himself. He could feel her watching him as he left.

WHOAZAMBIQUE NATIONAL MUSEUM
MAREPUTO
17:55

They waited in the parking lot for nearly an hour. A decoy had already gone in. She had been a young mare volunteer from the resistance. She looked similar to Zecora. Once they had dyed her coat to match cutie marks, it was very hard for strangers to spot the difference. She was coming out with a bag over her shoulder, some trinket from the gift shop. The decoy had been through the whole museum successfully; there was no sign of an ambush. It was time to go in.

Zecora got out of the van with an old stallion. He was old enough to be the father she had never known. That was the point. He was wearing a pair of thick rimmed glasses and had gray throughout his mane. He looked harmless, despite being a highly trained killer among the resistance. It was only a matter getting to the crown jewels. The museum would be closing in an hour. They had plenty of time to still act casually.

They took the proper museum tour, her and her “father.” The jewels, after all these years, were still the museum’s centerpiece, in the grand hall at the end of the tour. They were walking down a long hallway of old paintings when the window panes rattled. The floor shook. They could both hear a low rumble, right at the edge of their perception.

“Ambush!” the old stallion shouted before Zecora could even react. His reflexes were razor sharp. They both started to gallop down the hallway. It would be a race to the jewels now. An employees-only door swung open, three armed government soldiers rushed out and blindsided them. Zecora and her old stallion had no time to react. One solider struck the stallion in the head with the butt of his rifle, he went down, unconscious. Then Zecora was struck in the head and she went down as well. She lost her sight, all she could see was pain.

She didn’t black out completely. She heard the shot when they killed the old stallion. She could see them walking over to kill her too. The trooper swung his rifle down at her face, Zecora closed her eyes.

“Hang on there, don’t shoot her yet,” one of them said.

“We have orders to take no prisoners,” said the one holding Zecora at gun point.

“Oh we’ll kill her. But they didn’t say we couldn’t have our fun first,” the first one said.

They began to drag her back behind the employees-only door. Zecora looked up at their grinning faces. Then she looked further down and she could see their intentions. She trembled.

That was when Golden shot them. All three went down, one cleanly dead, the other two horribly maimed. He came galloping down the hall, shooting and screaming at the same time. He stood over the two wounded soldiers and fired into them until they were dead. He emptied the magazine.

“Get up,” he told her, trying to pick her up himself, “we’ve got to go.”

“What.. what happened?” she asked. She could barely even think from the blow to her head, let alone rhyme.

“It’s an ambush,” he said. “All of the partisans outside are dead. It was one big trap. I don’t know how, I think you were betrayed.”

“Was... it you?” she asked him, looking him directly in his eyes.

“What? No, how could you think that?” Golden got Zecora back on her hooves. “Zecora, I came back for you. Now come on, we’ve got to get out of here.”

“No, Golden,” she said, her head starting to clear. “The Element, we have to get to it, it’s our only hope.”

He paused, then nodded. He followed her down the hallway in the direction of the crown jewels. They lept over the bodies of the dead soldiers.

Zecora realized the significance. “

“Oh, Golden,” Zecora said, “Oh, Golden, your oath. Golden, I am so sorry.”

“It’s over,” he said. “It’s broken. My oath means nothing. It doesn’t matter anymore. I don’t care any more. I’ve made my decision.” He showed no emotion as they galloped onward.

Zecora was heartbroken, She did not think that even the Element if Providence was worth his loss. They exited the hall, and found themselves on a second floor balcony. It overlooked the main room of the museum and the crown jewels themselves. They were displayed on large platform in the center.
The balcony also looked over a dozen or more soldiers that filled the room. President Mbingnui himself was here, barking orders. Zecora and Golden were too late.

“It was too close!” Mbinguni shouted, berating his troops. “They almost made it! We know the jewel is here now. Destroy all of them! Smash the jewels. Melt the gold. I want everything destroyed!” He began smashing the glass cases with his own hooves. He began throwing the jewels out onto the floor. He knocked a tiara off of a marble sphere. He picked up the sphere and raised it above his head.

“There will never be another princess, that is the important thing!” he brought his hooves down and threw the orb against the floor. It shattered into dozens of shards. The shards lifted up off the floor for a moment, and then themselves crumbled into dust and blew away on an unfelt wind.

“NOOOO!” Zecora shouted from the balcony.

All of the faces in the museum turned to look at her. The soldiers rushed to ready their weapons. Golden fired his rifle randomly into the crowd. They all dove for cover except for Mbinguni. He stood his ground but was not hit.

Zecora screamed again. Golden grabbed her, and used all his strength to pull her away. The bullets just missed them as he pulled her back into the hallway.

They fled.

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